


After the Party

by springburn



Series: The Thick of It mini-fics [7]
Category: The Thick Of It
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-23
Updated: 2015-04-23
Packaged: 2018-03-25 09:48:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3805945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/springburn/pseuds/springburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is my first ever fic. It charts Malcolm and Sam and how they got together. It is a stand alone piece. But other stories will follow on from it. I am also writing a multi chapter which will tie in with this story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	After the Party

AFTER THE PARTY.  
(A Malcolm fan-fic…..this has been written for something to do whilst being stuck at sea….please don’t judge too harshly….I’ve never put pen to paper before!!)  


oOo.  


Had it started after The Party? Sam wasn’t sure; somehow it had always been there.  
She started working for Malcolm Tucker more than two years before and from the beginning there was an unspoken…….something.  
He could be so abrasive, so belligerent, almost cruel, but never with her. With her he was always polite, always a gentleman. He would thank her for each task completed, be it part of her job description or not; a file hunted down, an email drafted or just a coffee bought, satsumas provided or a small favour pre-empted.  
They often worked late together and he always made sure she reached home safely or had somewhere to stay. She, in turn, would make it her business to bring in proper food, so that he would, at least, eat something, or see to it that there was a fresh, dry-cleaned shirt, for after an all night shit-storm. It was a mutual bond, that was never abused.  
But after The Party, after The Party, it was different.  
Sam wasn’t a great party-goer, but it was part of the job. As Malcolm’s PA she was expected to attend.  
Her big mistake was Russell.  
Russell Brewer worked in the DoSAC IT department. She had met him a couple of times. He seemed nice enough, and when he asked her to be his ‘plus one’, she had agreed.  
Sam’s relationships were not terribly successful, somehow the men she met with just didn’t measure up……measure up to what exactly?  
Sam wasn’t really sure, all she was certain of, was that the men of her own age and acquaintance, didn’t quite cut the mustard- no passion, no fire, no heart……..  
Malcolm Tucker, the scourge of Downing Street, hated taking on new staff. New people needed to be ‘broken in’ to his way of working; it wasted valuable time and energy, it was irritating and painful! PA’s had come and gone, and now this new girl……Christ! She looked so young…..young and inexperienced, this was going too be purgatory!  
But, to Malcolm’s surprise, the first morning, while he was in mid-tirade, over the latest ministerial cock-up, she purposefully entered his office….smartly dressed, silky hair tied in a neat ponytail, calm and self-assured. She patiently waited for the shout-fest to abate….  
“I’m fetching coffee for myself Malcolm, would you like one?she enquired.  
Malcolm was rather taken aback, but gave his beverage order. She placed some papers his desk.  
“Here are the files you asked for, and your 11am meeting is cancelled” she said “would you like me to re-schedule it?”  
He watched as she swung around the side of the desk and left the room…….  
“Well, fuck me!” he thought “maybe this won’t be so bad after all.”  
Every morning, after that, a coffee, just the way he liked it, would appear magically on his desk.  
His diary was well ordered, meetings arranged, files ready to be signed, all with efficiency and a ready smile.  
However, she could give as good as she got…..he had, once forgotten himself and sworn at her, she regarded him dispassionately and swiftly replied  
“Would you like that with one fuck or two..?”  
Sam was not intimidated by him, she would meet his gaze steadily and without fear and hold it without flinching.  
Malcolm liked her, and, for what it was worth, he thought she liked him in return.  


oOo.  


They had fallen into an easy working relationship. They knew each other’s way of operating. Yes, they could be described as friends, as far as it went.  
They attended meetings, conferences and seminars together; they often worked late into the night at Downing Street, occasionally they managed a snatched coffee or a takeaway together, and on a couple of occasions, they had worked from Malcolm’s house and Sam had slept on the sofa. It was all strictly professional, never anything untoward or inappropriate. And yet…..and yet, sometimes, Sam caught him watching her in the office, or their hands would brush in passing a pen or document, and his eyes would lock on hers, just for the merest of seconds, then it was gone.  
Had she imagined it?  
The dreaded Christmas Party loomed. Sam mentioned to Malcolm that she was attending with ‘Russell from IT’ and, for some reason, his hackles rose.  
He was cross, mainly with himself- was he jealous?  
If so, why?  
Sam would never, in a million years, look at a miserable old fuck like him. Who was he kidding?  
But, despite these thoughts, he couldn’t help but notice, how nice she was to him, how she always seemed to go above and beyond the call of duty; she smiled so readily with him……no! He was seeing what he wanted to see, it was all in his mind.  
Music pumped, drink flowed.  
Malcolm circled the floor, orange juice in hand; making small talk, networking, joking, snippets of ribald mock insults.  
Resplendent in his tuxedo, tall and lean, he moved with an easy glide, not missing a trick.  
Which was why he noticed Russell. He was watching him now, eyes narrowed, hawk-like.  
Sam looked beautiful. Her hair in an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck. A full length black evening gown, which hugged her shapely figure.  
She was standing in a group,chatting and smiling, seemingly relaxed, but, from time to time, she glanced around her nervously, as if looking for something…..someone.  
Russell was drunk, or, at least tipsy. Malcolm didn’t like the way he lent in towards Sam. He leered at her, his face too close to hers.  
They moved away from the group and his hand strayed to her arse. She pushed him away and, again, her eyes swept the room, her expression concerned.  
Just then Malcolm was accosted by an old colleague and his attention wavered from the pair. When he looked back, seconds later, they were gone.  
Alarm bells rang in Malcolm’s head. His drink dumped unceremoniously, he began to search the room. He hurried through to the offices beyond, opening and slamming doors.  
Fortunately it only took a matter of moments before he heard a sound. The office was dark and deserted apart from two shadows. He heard Sam’s voice,  
“Russell, stop being a dick, I’m not interested”  
There was a slurred reply, but Malcolm didn’t wait to catch the words. The slime-ball had her pinned, his arms on the wall on either side of her, preventing her escape  
“Oh, come on, you little prick teaser, just a little kiss….”  
He moved in towards her, menacingly, his intent clear.  
Malcolm crossed the room like a greyhound out of a trap. Grabbing Russell firmly by the back of his collar, he pulled him and turned him in one movement  
“Maybe you’d prefer to kiss this” he hissed, swinging his fist back. He didn’t hit Russell with his full force, but it was enough to unbalance him.  
“Do you know what happens to drunken shits like you who disabuse women” he breathed  
“they have their bollocks chopped off and shoved down their throats. Now fuck off, before that happens to you!”  
Russell stared at Malcolm and read the seething rage in his face. Discretion being the better part of valour, he decided to do exactly as he was told……  
Malcolm watched as he lurched and staggered away, holding a hanky to his nose, until a small gasp from behind him, bought him back to his senses.  
Sam slid limply down the wall and was sitting, knees drawn up, on the floor. Malcolm knelt down beside her,  
“Are you OK Sam? Did that wanker hurt you?”  
Her arms were hugging her knees and she was trying not to cry. Malcolm placed his hands over hers,  
“Come on, love, up yer get,” he whispered ” let’s get you home.”  
Sam allowed him to haul her gently to her feet, where she swayed uncertainly, her legs unable to support her. Malcolm shepherded her out of the office and down in the service lift, dialling and speaking into his mobile as they descended.  
By the time they reached ground level, Sam was trembling uncontrollably, and, as he propelled them both through he glass doors, towards the car, which swept up to the entrance foyer, Malcolm slipped off his jacket and wrapped it around her shoulders.  


oOo.  


Opening the rear door, Malcolm ushered Sam inside, before closing it, skirting round to the other side and sliding in beside her. After giving directions to the driver, he settled back into the seat. Malcolm wasn’t sure whether he should speak, or comfort her, or quite what to do, he eventually plumped for placing his hand over hers, as they lay folded in her lap. She gave a suppressed sob.  
Sam didn’t speak for the entire journey.  
On reaching her flat, Malcolm helped her out of the car, paid and dismissed the driver, before taking the time to guide her gently along her front path. She fumbled unsuccessfully for her keys, and closing his hand over hers, once more, he turned the key and entered.The flat was dark and cool. Malcolm felt for the light switch and, easing passed the inert Sam, he entered the living room and lit the fire. Still she stood there, shivering, as he moved to the kitchen in search of the kettle.  
With the idea of warming her by the fire, he turned to find her standing numbly behind him, biting her lip, her hands gripping the sides of his jacket, pulling it around her.On a whim, he held his arms open to her, and she stepped into them with a stifled sob.  
“It’s alright Sam, it’s alright” he whispered, ” you’re safe now, you’re safe.”  
She rested her head against his chest and moved into him, shoulders heaving. He held her close, rubbing one hand up and down her back , the other clasping the silken bun at the back of her head. He spoke soothingly to her and eventually she calmed a little. She wanted to stand there for ever.Pushing her back so that he could look into her face, Malcolm stroked a thumb across her damp cheek.  
“I was so stupid Malcolm” she blurted out, “if you hadn’t come along just then…..”  
She stopped, unable to speak further.  
“No lass,” he replied gently,” you were just being your normal open self…he’s the stupid one!”  
“Don’t worry about him, when I’ve dealt with him, he’ll wish he’d never bin fucking born!”  
He pulled her close again before she could respond. They stood together in Sam’s kitchen for several more minutes, before finally breaking apart.  
“I should go,” Malcolm sighed, ” will you be alright do you think?”  
Sam looked up into his face, her cheeks still moist. He gazed down at her. So much seemed to be written there that Malcolm could hardly bear to look back at her. It took his breath away. Gratitude, certainly, but so much more….there was a longing, almost a pleading look there, it could almost be mistaken for love…..?  
Malcolm swallowed thickly and pulled away from her,  
“I must go,” he said, voice hoarse, throat dry, “take tomorrow off if you want to, I’ll cover for you.”  
He was stepping down the hallway as he spoke. Sam following. She relinquished his jacket, which he folded over one arm. As he reached for the door latch, she stretched out a hand,  
“Malcolm…” She whispered, “thank you…..”  
“Don’t mention it lass” he replied quietly, “it’s fine.”  
“No…” She squeezed his fingers, ” I mean it…..thank you.”  
She dropped her hand and in a moment he was gone.  


oOo  


Malcolm leaned against the headrest in the back of the black cab.  
“You stupid old fuck ” he told himself, “what a prize wanker you’re making of yourself, Tucker. All lathered up over a woman 20 years younger than you, pull yourself together!”  
But then he smelled her perfume on his jacket, and he breathed in the scent and he knew it was hopeless.  
The following morning he had quite expected to see an empty desk outside his office. Although she was nowhere in sight, Sam’s handbag was there, and coffee and a skinny muffin were on his desk. She appeared after a few moments, smoothing her hair. Malcolm thought she looked more lovely this morning, than he had ever seen her. Poised and in control again.  
She followed him briskly into his office with a stack of papers, for him to sign.  
“Morning love!” he breezed, “alright?”  
“Yes, thank you Malcolm,” she smiled, ” thanks to you!”  
and as she lent over him at his desk, he caught the aroma of that perfume, and she rested her hand lightly on his back……  


oOo  


And that was how it started. After The Party.  
No one knew. No one noticed. Little glances, smiles of affection , jokes and banter between them, tentative brushes of hand on hand, finger on finger.  
Until one day, all hell broke loose.  


* “Leave her a fucking alone…….it’s alright, it’s alright”…….*  


Sam felt as if there had been an explosion, close to her head. Her ears didn’t seem to process sound, her mind numb, her eyes glazed. She didn’t know what to do; she could contact no one, tell no one and he was gone.  
They had taken his Blackberry, his official mobiles, but she had his private number, one of the few who did. Should she contact him?  
In the end, she decided she would, and went for levity…..  


“I have a coffee and a skinny muffin with your name on it…..should I bring it round?”  


It was a long time before she received a reply.  


” Stay the fuck away from me Sam , I’m a shit-storm, a fucking Omnishambles. Keep your head down and you’ll be fine; come near me and they’ll destroy you.”  
Sam fought back tears and rage in equal measure.  
That evening she walked purposefully up the path to his front door, and rang the bell. Malcolm answered; he looked tired beyond weariness, shattered, dishevelled.  
“Fuck, Sam, I told you to stay away!” he seethed, pulling her inside, after glancing up and down the street.  
Shuffling along the hallway, his fingers mussing his hair, she followed him to the kitchen.  
“You shouldn’t have come, I told you” his voice was almost caustic,  
“I’m working on getting back, there’s an election coming up……you need to steer clear. Work for Reader or whoever and bide your time.”  
Sam was determined not to cry and determined that he should know, that he had, at least, one ally in the world. She wanted,desperately, to hug him, but somehow it wasn’t the time.  
“OK,” she replied, “I’ll do as you ask , but here is my private number, make sure you call me……and make sure you eat!”

That evening, her phone buzzed……  


” I had pasta and a piece of gateaux. Thanks for coming round. M. x ”  


She smiled, in-spite of herself.  


“Glad to hear it! I miss you! S. x. ”  


For the next few days Sam did exactly as she was told. She worked hard, she kept her head down and her ear to the ground. Rumours flew, gossip was rife. All snippets of information were fed to her ex-boss in texts between them.  
Then….  


“and I’m back in the room! Advisory capacity- need a PA, want a job? M. x”  


” Do you need to ask!? S. x ”  


“That’s my girl……see you Monday. M. x ”  


oOo  


So it was, pretty much, business as usual, except it wasn’t really.  
Malcolm was different.  
Some spark in him had died, some fire extinguished. He was always much the same to her, but to others he could be particularly scheming and almost spiteful.  
She could see what this job was doing to him, it had sucked him dry and she hated it.  
She hated how they treated him, how hard he worked, the long hours, only to have more and more trouble heaped upon his shoulders. How eager they were to pass the buck, relinquish their own responsibility.  
Sam watched the life-blood leeching out of him but she was not really in a position to help him.  
Their relationship, since The Party, had, undoubtedly ,changed. But Malcolm would not allow their professional life to become bound up with a personal one. Between them had only ever been, an unspoken love.

Then, one fine bright morning, everything changed forever. 

In the beginning, Sam had seen the Goolding Inquiry as a way to see a few of these manipulative schemsters, get their come-uppance. But one by one, they wriggled free; they dangled their fishing line over the pier, baited and ready- and the prime Atlantic Cod was Malcolm.  
Suddenly he was in real danger.  
Sam attended the enquiry every day, despite Malcolm telling her to stay away. Hardly any words passed between them and her anguish was a dull pain in her chest, that never ceased.  
She sat listening to one after another of these fuckwits, denying, lying, embroidering the truth- call it what you will. She was convinced they’d stitched him up.Then the news came that he had resigned and he had been arrested.  
Then she knew. It was over.  
She had no doubt, there was not sufficient evidence to send him to prison, but she knew that the life he had given his all to, was over.  
There was no way back.  
Malcolm refused to see her. Refused to answer her calls or contact her. But she didn’t loose faith, not for a second. She knew he was trying to protect her. Shield her from the whole sordid mess, without association with him, she would be without taint.  
Able to continue in any career she chose, able to start afresh. He wanted to give her that, if he could give her nothing else.  
So she waited, patiently.  


oOo.  


The final day of the court hearing, found Sam in the public gallery.  
Malcolm did not flinch or glance up as the ‘Not Guilty’ because of Insufficient Evidence verdict was read out.  
His face remained a mask.  
Afterwards, Sam fought her way through the maelstrom of press and photographers, until she reached his side.  
He was blinded by flashbulbs and bombarded with questions. Sam stood very close to him and in the scrummage of bodies, she took his hand in hers, entwining their fingers together.  
Malcolm looked down at her, searching her face. Her eyes told him all he needed to know. He squeezed her hand tightly and together they made their way outside and into a waiting cab.  
As the car sped away Malcolm lifted their still joined hands and regarded them questioningly…….  
” Really? ” he enquired.”  
“Completely and absolutely!” smiled Sam.  
She reached her free hand to his face and Malcolm bent his head and their lips met.  
He kissed her as though his very life depended upon it, desperately, needily, and she responded with equal passion, drinking him in.  
“I’ve loved you for so long” she whispered.  
“God Sam,” he said, voice choked, “I’ve loved you since The Party- although I think it was before that, and The Party made me realise for sure!”  


Epilogue.  


One Year Later.  


Newspaper Headline……  
Freed Communications Director Weds Former PA…….………the marriage of Malcolm Tucker to Samantha Cassidy took place today……………….Ms Cassidy is understood to be expecting the couple’s first child later this year……..

Well, that’s it. It’s not really edited and it’s written raw as it came off the page…..it probably needs a lot of work and it’s nowhere near the standard of some I’ve read but it’s there nevertheless !


End file.
